don't want to change a thing about you (just here to grow besides you)
by Mashpotatoe Queen
Summary: The BatFam gets together to celebrate the greatest of them: Alfred Pennyworth. (There is tea. And presents. And family feels all around.)


**Title From House, Joshua Moss**

**Alfred is godsend and he deserves all the love.**

**No warnings, just fluff. :)**

**...**

Alfred Pennyworth is getting old, now.

Oh, not so old that he is incapable or invalid, never so old as that, but-

Old.

He can feel the creak in his bones, sometimes, when he gets up or leans over. Can feel that tired brittleness sinking in.

It doesn't bother him. Not really. He's lived a good life, a full life, a life filled with everything and anything one could imagine: one of his weekly tasks is to clean a massive dinosaur exhibit in an underground cave filled with some of the most high tech gadgets of the world.

So yes, a good life. A full life.

Maybe, at times, too full, but nevermind all that.

He is not so very concerned of growing old, but he does sometimes worry for the future, for times when he is no longer there and this marvelous, chaotic, _incredible _family he has marches on without him.

(There was a time in his life when Alfred was young and untested and alone, when he thought any hopes of family for himself vanished with two coffins being lowered into the earth. There was a time in his life where Alfred, too, vowed to make it alone, to live in the midst of it and never stop moving until he was three steps ahead, and to never look back.)

(There was a time in his life when Alfred took up a temporary position caring for a family with too much money to know what to do with it, something to keep his funds fueled and horizons opened, and then tragedy struck where it was least expected- as it always has and always will- and he was left staring at a little boy with wounds carved in his shoulders so deep they might never heal over.)

(And, well- Alfred knows what it is to be young and untested and alone, and the temporary folded into the permanent, and he stopped moving to reach a hand out and hold tight, to walk a lonely road a little less lonely, and he stayed and he stayed and he stayed, and he never looked back.)

(The grand old tales will tell you of the Bat and his Birds, about how they needed each other. They will forget about one old butler who became so much more than his station, about how he and the Bat needed each other, too.)

"Pennyworth?"

"Here, Master Damian."

Damian pulls to a stop right outside the kitchen door, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie and a neutral expression on his face that Alfred has come to associate with confusion, or at least being out of his depth.

A moment of silence permeates the room. Alfred keeps right on cleaning, having long since learned to let the child have his peace when trying to figure things out.

And then-

"I...require your assistance."

Alfred blinks.

That is not expected.

That is… almost concerning.

He stands, putting his supplies down, turning to face the boy properly.

"My assistance?"

"Yes," says Damian, becoming more confident, now, "I require your assistance. To drive me somewhere."

Alfred nods, peering down on the child curiously. Damian is far more likely to steal a car than to ask for a ride anywhere, but he supposes that could be changing, and if it is, it's something he wants to support.

"Right then, where will we be going?"

Damian opens his mouth. Closes it. Frowns before saying, "I will give directions as we go. Come, Pennyworth, time is running short."

And so they go. They take one of the less conspicuous cars, the radio playing as quiet background noise. Damian doesn't say anything, fiddles with his phone and nods along occasionally to a particular catchy rhythm or tune, only breaking the silence to give a direction or scoff at some advertisement or another.

Alfred doesn't mind the silence. In a way, Damian is much like Bruce when the other was a child, and in a way he is so different it is almost laughable.

But it is comfortable, and when some old song comes on and Alfred sings quietly along, familiar words falling off his tongue like coming home, the youth tilts his head towards him curiously and listens.

They pull to a stop in front of some cafe, and Alfred blinks up at the sign with a sort of unbothered confusion. A tea shop is not what he expected to be Damian's destination, but he supposes that there is time yet to learn.

What _really _surprises him, however, is when Damian jumps out of his seat and runs around to open Alfred's door gesticulating at the shop and shifting ever so slightly on impatient feet.

He gets an inkling as to what all this is about.

"Ah," he says, "thank you, Master Damian," and then he clambers out and comes to stand tall besides him.

They enter the tea shop, and as Alfred expected it is empty save for one large group crammed around a collected mass of tables in the corner. Jason looks up from his book, a disgruntled look on his face and just about as far from Bruce as he can be, but he offers a nonchalant wave when he spots him. Tim, bags under his eyes prominent and arms wrapped around himself as if cold, flicks him a small smile, too

Dick is practically beaming, getting up to offer him a hug and to ruffle Dami's hair for his successful mission as the younger boy pretends not to be pleased, and Stephanie whispers something in Cassandra's ear that makes her laugh as Barbra rolls her eyes and scoots closer to the table so she can see what novel Jason is reading. Duke looks up from his phone to give him a wave and an almost nervous smile, not quite sure of his place yet but still here, still _here._

Alfred gets to sit at the head of the table, the servers coming out and taking their orders of tea, and Damian complains about having no room but falls quiet when Dick wraps an arm around his shoulders. In the corner, Tim falls asleep before his cup can be placed before him, and Jason shrugs his jacket off and throws it on top of him, giving him the appearance of a leather jacket cocoon.

Cassandra slides a few small presents over, her eyes bright, and they drink warm tea and sing and live in the moment.

And later, later, spilled tea and chaotic chatter and happy laughter and all, Bruce leans over and places a warm hand on his shoulder, steady and strong and alive and grown, and smiles.

"Happy Birthday, Alfred."

And Alfred looks at this family of his, this wonderful family he never thought he would get to have, and suddenly the future does not seem so worrying or dark. Suddenly, he comes to the warm realization that these men and women are young and untested, but they are not alone. That they will never be alone, not when they have this, have each other to grow old with, to face ever trial with, to _live _with in these eternally passing moments.

"Yes," he says, and sips tea and smiles slow and small and steady, "Yes. I do believe it is."


End file.
